


SG-5

by ravensilverwing



Category: Stargate SG-1, Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fusion, M/M, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-02-19
Updated: 2010-02-19
Packaged: 2017-10-07 09:15:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,191
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/63665
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ravensilverwing/pseuds/ravensilverwing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for a Dean/Cas comm Fusion challenge. My prompt was: Dean's a member of an SG team (the young, cocky one), who somehow picks up a stray, strange alien who follows him around (even through the gate!) talking about protection and destiny. But this alien is more than he seems...he's actually a fallen-out-of-favor Ancient.</p>
            </blockquote>





	SG-5

There were some things Dean accepted about his job. Some things that just came with the territory. Awesome pay, no hours in which to spend it. Constant danger, lots of opportunities to shoot the bad guys. Who weren’t always human and therefore didn’t come with moral issues. Saving the girl, not being able to get with the girl. Off world regulations sucked. But he’s pretty sure being stalked by a holy tax accountant isn’t part of the package. He’s tempted to check his contract, but despite the fact it contains many and varied crazy things, he’s pretty sure accepting a tax accountant stalker, is not one of them.

He saw him at the corner store first, beige trench coat billowing despite the 90 degree heat. Dean figured it was a little weird but hey, he’d seen weirder, a hell of a lot weirder so he figured, the guy’s cold and continued on to buy his beer.

The second time it was pouring rain and he was just standing on the side walk getting wet, head tilted up, staring at the clouds. Dean didn’t recognise him at the time. There were a lot of people hurrying around in trench coats that night. He just politely eased past him to get to his building’s front door and didn’t think of it again.

At least not until the third time and even then he was a little distracted. Small town square, pretty little market. Tavern on the left, dead and dying townsmen on the right. Rebel Jaffa staff blasts mowing down the rest. Beige trench coat flapping in the breeze. Firing his P90 and hoping like hell SG-3 was keeping the gate open for them.

It wasn’t till he was running back through the event horizon, panting and hoping like hell they hadn’t left any townsfolk behind before setting off the nuke, that he blinked, frowned, figured he was probably hallucinating and kept moving. The townsfolk wouldn’t know beige if it bit them. Bright green and blue was more their thing. Blue, green, all the girls in bright, bright pink and purple. Hair blonde and pretty shades of red, low cut dresses and really big...

The time after that made a hell of a lot more sense. Passing a church on his way to a local diner for well earned beers with Sammy. Beige trench coat guy stepping in front of him on the side walk. Guy had no concept of personal space. Dean stepping back. Trench Coat Guy stepping forward, right back into his personal space.

“Okaaaay. Nice meeting you.” Patently false smile. “I have...”

“You have a destiny Dean.”

Unconsciously accepting the guy knew his name and moving right along.

“Riiight. Okay. That’s nice.” Stepping sideways. The guy just matched his step, pushing ever closer into his personal space till they were almost touching.

“You don’t think you have a place in God’s plan?” Gaze intense, beaming curious sincerity right into Dean’s eyes.

“Well I...” Dean winced and looked away. How to avoid the awkward? Blue sky, sandstone, high arch, stained glass window, crucifix on the heavy wooden door. “Oh, oh...I. Yeah.” Meeting his eyes again. “Sure I do. I mean, don’t we all have our place in God’s plan?” Smiling. “But I’m a little busy right now, maybe I’ll see you next Sunday, yeah?”

Starting to edge past the guy who just nodded sincerely, clearly happy or at least mollified by his response. And if Dean just happened to be off world next Sunday then at least he could say he tried.

 ***

Next Sunday he was hip deep in cattle or sheep or maybe they were goats. It was hard to tell. They looked like cattle, short brown hair, broad flat nose, wide sharp horns except smaller. Like sheep, or goats.

“Dean.”

“Yeah.” He was still pondering the cattle, P90 held loosely in his hands.

“Dean, it is Sunday.”

“Um.” Frowning and casually glancing over to see beige, vaguely trench coat like. “What the fuck?”

“It is Sunday Dean.”

“I...I’m hallucinating.” Blinking, free hand rubbing his eyes, other hand still clutching the P90. “You can’t be here.”

“You said you would see me Sunday Dean.”

“I’m hallucinating, or I’m unconscious or I’m...”

“I am here Dean.” Infinite patience.

“Stop saying that!”

“What about my appearance is incorrect?” Looking down at his feet then up into Dean’s eyes. Blue eyes questioning. “I am here and it is Sunday.” Stepping closer. “And we have much to discuss. You have a destiny Dean. It is very important that you...”

The P90 swung up sharply, suddenly pointed at the centre of Trench Coat Guy’s chest.

“Step back. Slowly.” Dean wasn’t taking any chances. He might be hallucinating or he, Trench Coat Guy might be...something else. There were a lot of ‘something else’s’ in his line of work.

Trench Coat Guy’s head tilted slightly, his blue eyes squinting in confusion as he slowly eased backwards.

“Now Dean, we need to talk.” He began again.

“No. You need to shut your pie hole and I need to call for back-up.”

Trench Coat Guy opened his mouth to speak as Dean tapped his comm.

“Yeah Sammy this is Dean, I have a...whoa.”Dean jumped back. Trench Coat Guy was reaching towards his head, two fingers of one hand outstretched. “Back on up there buddy! Keep your hands to yourself!”

“Dean!” Sammy was yelling down the comm.

Dean kept his eyes on the Guy. Guy in a trench coat, on a backwater planet (with cattle which may or may not be goats), which is Not Earth and therefore should Not contain a Guy in a Trench Coat.

“You. Do not move.” Dean ordered. “Keep your hands to yourself and where I can see them. And Do Not Move.”

“I’m right here Sammy.” Tapping the comm again and watching the Guy stare at him unmoving. Even his eyes weren’t shifting. Just staring. Crystal blue in the sunlight and staring straight at him, or into him or...gone. Faint sound of wings crushed beneath the sound of Sammy’s boots. The Guy was fucking gone. Fucking brilliant.

 ***

Dean hated psych evaluations. They were long and tedious and they always wanted him to talk about his god damned feelings. Like he was some sort of chick just waiting to have a chick flick moment or worse, a series of chick flick moments with inner angst and manly crying. ARGH. God damnit. He was either losing his freaking mind or he wasn’t. End of story. He wasn’t under any more stress than normal. It was a fucking milk run mission. Baby sit some scientists whilst they played doctor with the locals. How fucking stressful could it be? Minus the question over cows vs goats and it was a walk in the damn park.

Except the part where he was seeing strange guys in trench coats. Which was a weird hallucination if you asked Dean. Hot girls in tiny clothing. Yeah that would make sense, not that Dean was opposed to hot guys. But Holy Tax Accountants? He must be losing his mind.

At least there wasn’t anything physically wrong with him. Enough scans and probes and needles to be sure of that.

And at least they’d finally let him out of the infirmary to get a decent shower.

Hot water, thick steam, turning to grab soap and finding someone else in his shower space.

“Dude! That is Not okay!” Blinking through steam to notice beige and piercing blue eyes. “Oh you have got to be kidding me!”

“I do not kid Dean Winchester.” Same monotone.

Did the guy ever slip out of that deep monotonous voice of his?

“This is my voice Dean.” Deep wrinkles between his eyebrows.

“You’re just a hallucination. And I may be going crazy but can you back the fuck up? I’m trying to shower here and you do not just get all up close and personal when a guy is doing that.” Glaring into laser blue eyes, which were not getting any further away.

“It is very important that we talk.”

“Yeah, yeah. So you keep saying. Well I’m going to shower, you’re going to shut your pie hole and then.” His mouth twisted into a grimace. “Then we’re going back to the shirk for another round of ‘tell me how you feel’.”

Dean reached for the soap and brushed up against fabric. Beige fabric that was slowly soaking up water.

“Um...I’m pretty sure hallucinations don’t actually...”

“I’m not a hallucination Dean.” Was Dean imagining things or did he actually sound impatient this time?

“You’d say that anyway.” Dean countered.

That seemed to confuse the Guy, deep wrinkles forming between his eyes again.

“But I am not a hallucination.”

“Okay then. What are you?” Dean smirked.

“I am an Angel of the Lord.”

“Oh yeah. And do you have a name oh Angel of the Lord.” Dean decided to go back to washing.

He’d finish his shower then head straight back to the damn shrink.

“My name is Castiel.”

“Right, right and I guess you and your buddies fly round the place righting wrongs and protecting the innocent.” Dean grinned over his soap slick shoulder.

Castiel’s eyes tightened.

“No. Our job is to smite the wicked.”

“Oh. So...”Dean was surprised. “Not so much with the protecting then?”

“It is you who will do the protecting Dean, it is your destiny.”

“I’m not sure if you’ve noticed Cas, but I do a lot of protecting now. You know, shoot the bad guy, save the girl. Or the guy. I’m not judging. Or picky. But that’s not the point. I DO protecting. I already have a protecting gig.” Soaping his stomach now. “But thanks for the job offer though.”

“Dean...” Castiel began again.

“Dean, who’re you talking to?” Voice coming from the entrance of the communal bathroom.

Dean swung his head around the partition.

“Oh, hey Sammy, just talking to Cas.” Grinning. “He’s offering me a new job. Less work, better pay.”

“Actually the work will be much harder.”

Sam’s face scrunched up a little in confusion as he walked past the empty shower stalls to stop by Dean’s.

“Um Dean...”

“Hey, Cas meet Sammy. Sammy, this is Castiel. He’s an Angel of the Lord.” Smirking and beginning to rinse.

 “It is good to meet you Samuel Winchester.”

“Ah...nice to meet you too.” Sam’s voice was tight.

 “He says it’s...” But Sam was already nodding, eye brow raised. “Wait...You can hear him?”

“Clear as a bell. He’s standing right next to you Dean. And I mean Right. Next. To. You. Not like I could miss him. And I thought we agreed no fraternising on base?”

“Holy shit you can see him?” Dean was spinning round, backing up a little to avoid rubbing against the damn trench coat.

“Ah, yeah Dean. He’s right there. And I’m sure he can see you too.” Hinting. “As can I.” Hinting even more.

“Oh shit!”

Sam gave in and went for a towel.

“He can see you?” Dean stared at Castiel dumbly.

“As can you.” Castiel actually sounded impatient now.

“Sammy!”

 ***

General Singer wouldn’t let Dean go home. Instead he got assigned a bunk in a nice concrete room and told to stay and await further orders. Doesn’t matter that he’s already explained, more times that he cares to admit, just how many times he’s seen the Guy in the Trench Coat, aka Castiel, aka Angel of the freaking Lord. Yeah like that’s believable. Just how many God’s have they met now? Dean’s lost count, too many to remember and all of them dead, simply snakes infesting a human body. Maybe that’s what this guy is, a different type of snake in a human host. Maybe with some new tech they haven’t encountered before.

At least he’s not going crazy. That’s something at least. No more trips to the shrink for...

Rush of birds wings.

Oh Not Again. Rolling over with a groan to find Castiel sitting on the edge of his bunk.

“Dude! That’s not okay. You can’t Do that. You can’t just come in here and...oh wait. You hear that? That’s the sound of a thousand army boots stomping down the hall the haul your ass back into isolation.” Glaring at the so called Angel of the Lord. “Also the reason I can’t go home! Can’t you just go? As in back where you came from.”

“No Dean. Your destiny is important.”

“Right now me getting some sleep is important. I need to sleep. Don’t you need to sleep?” Plaintive.

“No.”

“No?”

“I do not require sleep Dean.”

The door crashes open and Dean catches a glimpse of Bobby’s beard before the sound of zats getting ready to fire fills the tiny room. Dean flops back onto the bed to avoid stray shots and because he’s tired god damnit.

“I will wait in the other room.” Castiel intones.

“Good choice.” Dean snarks into empty silence.

 ***

Dean looks up from his early morning coffee, looks across the tiny table in the cafeteria and discovers the pigeon has flown the coop. Again.

“Good morning Dean.”

Rubbing his tired eyes Dean grunts. He’s barely had 3 hours of sleep and he is not a happy camper. He chases the remaining few mouthfuls of breakfast around his plate before caving in.

“Okay, so spill it. What’s my great and wonderful destiny?” Incredibly insincere smile, prepared for imminent bull shit.

“It is very important Dean and should not be taken so lightly.” Is that an admonishment Dean hears?

“So you keep saying.”

“I have not said it should not be taken lightly before.” Staring right into Dean like it’s important he understands that.

Dean rolls his eyes.

“You remind me of Sammy. It’s called sarcasm. Obviously they don’t have that wherever you’re from.”

“Heaven.”

“Riiiight.” Dean stands and watches as Castiel rises as well. “We should get to the intero...the ah...interview room.” Smiling brightly to cover the misstep.

“Of course.” And before Dean can stop him Castiel’s fingers touch his forehead and they’re suddenly in the interrogation room.

“Whoa! Whoa! That? That is Not Cool! You do Not do that again you hear me!” Head swimming as he grabs a corner of the table for balance.

This time there’s only a three count before the door crashes open and the sound of zats charging fills the room.

“See,” Dean groans, doubled over, head almost touching the table. “Not a good idea and Never to be done again!” Another groan. “I think you left my breakfast behind.”

 ***

“So...” Now that the cameras and listening stuff is set up, Dean figures it’s time they actually got to the point. “My destiny. My great and important destiny. Care to elaborate?”

“It is your destiny to protect the human race.”

Silence.

“That’s it?”

Further silence.

“Um, I hate to break it to you, but I’m already doing that.” Folding his arms across his chest and leaning back. “Thanks for the message though.”

Steady blue eyes staring into his skull. Silence.

“You came all this way just to tell me that?” Leaning forward and invading Castiel’s personal space for once. “Nothing else?” Fingertip bouncing on the metal table top between them. “Just that my important, no, no, very important destiny, is to protect people?”

“Yes.”

“You could have told me that on the footpath outside the damn church. Come on Cas. What’s really going on? Where are you really from, and don’t give me that Angel of the Lord crap either.”

A millisecond of affronted ‘angel’ and Dean was alone again.

 ***

He was sitting on Dean’s couch in the dark when he got home. Three months later, but nether the less, sitting on his couch in the dark. Waiting. For Dean to come home Dean figured. He hadn’t really been home much in the last three months. Confined to base for a full month. Yeah, thanks for that you asshole. Dean thought bitterly. Dean did not deal well underground. Then hell broke loose and he was back in the field, off world, fighting some fucked up plague without a cure that suddenly had a cure.

“So nice of you to drop by.” Dean grumbled, dumping his bag and heading to his kitchen for the phone.

Had to call General Singer, as ordered, report the damn Angel of the mother fucking Lord was back, and probably get confined to base. Again. Dean groaned. Maybe he could just, but no, he was a good soldier, he followed orders. Usually. Mostly. If they suited him. Actually it was a damn shock he’d lasted this long in the marines. Then again General Singer wasn’t exactly the poster child of a normal General. How in hell he got away with the beard, Dean would never know.

“It’s important that we speak Dean.”

“I think I’ve heard this one. Oh wait, that’s because I have. You show up, talk like an automaton, say the same shit on repeat, then fly off.”

Castiel was suddenly inside his personal space, body heat pressing into Dean, breath playing over his...

“Back up or I swear to god I will shoot you.” Snarling.

Castiel’s head tilted slightly, eyes staring right into Dean’s and how had he forgotten that? Damn stare, damn...he hadn’t backed up at all. If anything he was leaning forward, trench coat brushing against Dean’s jacket.

“You don’t believe me Dean?” Innocence and confusion.

“Why the hell would I believe you?” Snarling rage, pulling back and...There wasn’t an and. Was no and! Wasn’t noticing how the air around Castiel almost hummed. How the blue of his eyes couldn’t possibly be human, cause no one had eyes that blue. Accept maybe Castiel. Which was stupid and redundant and okay, moving right along now.

“I came to warn you...”

“You’re threatening me now?”

“No.”And he waited. Waited till Dean was looking at him with wide expectant eyes. Waiting for Castiel to continue.

“Was there something else there Cas or was it just a vague, I came to warn you?”

“Why do you call me Cas?”

Dean’s wide eyes narrowed in confusion.

“What?”

“My name is Castiel. Why do you continue to call me Cas in preference?”

Dean was frowning, thrown.

“Cause it’s shorter, as in quicker, which I wish you would be so we can get to your damn warning sometime this century maybe?”

“There is going to be a war.”

“Ah ha.” Fresh doubt. “Pick one. Or are you talking about a new one?”

“If you lose the war then all mankind will suffer and eventually die.”

“Well that’s just peachy. Care to elaborate?”

Cas looked away, the first time he had Dean realised. Frowning, Dean followed his gaze. He was staring at the kettle. Right. No help there.

“So there’s going to be a war. The war to end all wars.”

“Yes. Exactly. This will be the last war.”

“And where exactly are we talking? The universe isn’t exactly a small place.”

Cas bit his bottom lip. An actual, real life expression of uncertainty.

“I cannot say.” His voice quiet.

 “Cannot or will not?” Dean wanted to know.

“That is all I can say.”

“Not even a hint in the right direction?” Dean was beyond impatient now.

“It has already begun.”

And with that he was gone.

 ***

Dean was sure he was a goner, was sure he was dead. Half the teams sent through the gate either dead or dying around him. Some had gone, made it out. But no one else left fighting from what Dean can see. Not that he can see a lot outside of sand and the flap of a far off beige tent. Quick shuffle of rebel Jaffa scrambling over the dune to his left. Firing the P90 on reflex even though he’s so close to out of ammo and should probably save it. But three Jaffa go down so that’s a good thing. Would be better if he’d noticed the six creeping up on his far right though.

Position pinned down, Jaffa too smooth, too used to this. Too damn many. At least Sammy isn’t here. He knows Sammy is alright, made it back through the gate in the second wave that retreated. He should have been in the third but...More Jaffa coming over the dunes now. Fuck. He’s not going to make it home this time.

“Sorry Sammy.”

Standing to fire whatever rounds he has left then darkness. Screaming. Sonofabitch. Fuck. He didn’t think death would hurt this much.

Then silence.

Opening his eyes to soft light and the quiet hum of machines. Overhead lighting, monitors all familiar. The mountain. He’s back in the mountain. How the fuck?

“Dean, you should be more careful.” Blue eyes worried, still piercing and gazing right into him as always, but something else in there as well.

A croak. Dry husk more than a wet frog. He can barely move his arms or his legs. Or his fingers or toes for that matter but, ‘I’m thirsty’. Thinking it loud and clear. Knowing from experience that Cas can hear him.

“Oh.” Eyes shifting off to the right, swinging round to the left.

He can see Cas pouring water into a cup from the corner of his eye.

‘Don’t forget the straw, bendy thing.’ Castiel pauses. Oh Christ. Rolling his eyes. Castiel looks back at him lost. Dean draws him a mental picture.

“One is not available.”

Dean groans.

“I will help.”

‘Do not fucking drown me!’ Dean thinks very hard.

“I will not drown you Dean.” One hand sliding under the base of his head and lifting him up enough for lips to meet cool water, carefully tilted not to pour out.

Two sips, three and Dean turns away, knocks the cup and gets a face full of water. His head hits the pillow as cloth covers his face. Then there’s careful, gentle dabbing, mopping up the spilled liquid. Almost tender like his Mom used to when he was...Wrenching his thoughts away from that to glare at a curious Castiel.

“Sammy?” Still croaking but the sound doesn’t pull up images of deserts and old pain now. “Where’s Sammy?”

“He is not here.”

“No shit Sherlock.” Grousing. “Where is he? Is he alright? He made it through before me...” Hoarse.

“He went home. I can bring him here.” Offering.

“No! No just...let him rest.” Last thing he wants is Sammy being yanked through time and space by a bucking roller coaster that may or may not be benevolent. Another thought suddenly occurring. “Does General Singer know you’re here?”

A solemn nod.

“Yes. He saw me as I brought you to the Infirmary.”

Bitter groan before a mental light bulb clicks on.

“You...” Frowning. Trying to remember past pain and screaming. “You brought me here?”

“The wormhole closed. I carried you here myself.”

“I thought you guys were all about the smiting.”

Castiel looked away.

“Didn’t take you for the smiting kind anyway.”

“I cannot stay.”

“Didn’t expect you to.”

 ***

Warm darkness, light filtering through the space between arm and chest, around head and shoulder, through messy tuffs of hair. Dean’s not sure he’s noticed the hair before. Basic brown, which is odd in contrast to the startling blue eyes. Blue which are almost glowing in the half light. Not actually glowing though, which is good. Glowing would be bad and Dean doesn’t want Cas to be bad. Really wants him to be good. Which is stupid, cause trusting him would be bad. Even if his body is solid and warm and his lower half is pushing Dean down and Dean’s is automatically shoving up.

“Not that I’m complaining.”Which he should be. “But why are you on top of me?”

“You really need to be more careful Dean.”

Nothing new there, Sammy says it all the damn time. Then Dean swears Cas’s hips rock down before he vanishes again.

Which leaves a predictable reaction for him to deal with as Sammy comes rushing over to help him up. Then scolds him for almost getting shot. Again.

 ***

The sound of wings is almost imperceptible over the rush of water but Dean’s gotten used to listening for it. Beige trench coat still firmly in place despite the fact he’s standing right up against Dean in the shower. At least this time he’s at home, no chance of an audience. Considering what he’s in the middle of doing that’s probably a good thing. Dean wants to open his mouth and say something witty. Something about no concept of personal space, but the open flap of the trench coat is trailing all over his leg, up his thigh, around very sensitive, personal spaces. And Cas is beyond encroaching on personal space this time. Mouth leaning in, cheek resting right up against his bristled one. Hasn’t had time to shave yet. Still hasn’t finished the showering part of his morning, let alone the... Oh god. Don’t think it. Do Not Think IT. Too late. Certain parts are already awake, even if Dean’s brain is scrambling for an explanation, a reason Cas has joined him in the shower once again.

“Dean, we need to talk.” Soft voice and lips, right up against his ear.

Think of something else, think of Sammy and the gate room and wormholes and pretty, pretty okay...maybe not that.

“Uh ha.”

Not groaning, not groaning.

“Why don’t you ah...um...” Swallowing hard. “Wait for me to...” Don’t think it, don’t think it. Who’s he kidding? “Finish.”

“There are listening devices in your apartment. This is not for them to hear.”

Which drops a bucket of ice down his spine and across his raging hard on.

“What?” Head turning to meet blue eyes.

“There are listening devices in your apartment. I wish to speak with you alone.” Quick eye flick down, across, long pause then up, staring again.

A slight frown as Dean puts that aside to think about later.

“You are being watched.”

“Well you...” Wanting to say something witty but he’s at a loss again. Back to the business at hand now the business in his hand has lost interest. “What’s going on?”

Quick eye flick again. The slightest hint of a blush.

“We do not have time to...” And damn if Dean doesn’t notice his hesitation.

“I don’t mean that! I mean the war.” Rolling his eyes in exasperation.

“Oh.” A pause. “Your allies are being corrupted and turned against you.”

“You do know I’m going to tell my superiors exactly what you tell me, don’t you?”

“Yes, I am aware you must relay all information I pass on to you, to your supervisors.”

“But you’re worried about listening devices?” Eye brow rising.

Quick eye flick away then back. Silence. Admission. But there’s something else bugging Dean.

“Then why don’t you tell them yourself?” Because Dean’s honestly curious. So far Cas hasn’t passed on any information that pertains to Dean directly. Just vague warnings about a war that may or may not happen here on Earth, though Dean’s betting it’s not on Earth. The last few months have been very busy off world, to say the least. More hunting down threats than babysitting scientists and doctors.

“Because it is important you understand what is about to happen.”

That makes him tense.

“And what is about to happen?”

“I have already told you too much.”

“About the war?”

Cas nodding against his skin should not feel so good, or be so distracting from the very real threat that the universe as he knows it, is about to go to shit. But it is. Smooth skin, soft if chapped lips. Chapped lips moving softly, slowly over his. Bare hint of a kiss then he’s gone.

“Fuck.”

 ***

The idea that Cas is an Ancient and not an Angel of the mother freaking Lord should not be such a surprise. But it is. Cas lied. Castiel mother fucking lied! But if he’s an Ancient then why is he helping? Well more like hinting than helping, except with the whole saving Dean’s life thing. He should really have thought of it before. Zapping people around the universe, healing him, the hinting, cryptic messages, not quite interfering. Son of a bitch! And why the fuck did Sammy have to be the one to point it out with a ‘how did you miss that?’ look on his face. Bastard. Asshole. At least he’s not the first to have an Ancient Stalker. Ha. Ancient Stalker. He decides he needs another beer and Sammy can go to hell if the thinks he can stop Dean. Sammy may be taller but Dean’s not above fighting dirty.

 ***

So Sammy’s missing and Dean’s freaking out. Not because Sammy is his baby brother. Not because Sammy is his responsibility and no one can tell him different. Not the marines or the SGC or any other fucker. No, Dean’s freaking out because Sammy got taken by some freaking goddess wannabe who thinks Sammy will make a nice companion. Which honestly, isn’t that rare. If Sammy wasn’t huge and the best man to cover his back in a fight, he’d have kicked his ass off the team years ago. Cause the boy is too pretty for this universe it would seem. Slave traders love him, priest and priestesses want him for their ceremonies, usually the fertility ones. Why is he not surprised? And psychotic bitches? Just can’t seem to keep their hands off of him.

And normally he wouldn’t be so freaked except this bitch likes to turn her companions evil, no sense of right or wrong or that killing their best friend, let alone their team mates, is an all round bad idea. Or maybe that’s this bitch’s deal. Creating these crazy companions who’ll serve her in twisted orgies and as an added bonus go forth and kill or be killed by their family and friends.

So Sammy’s missing and Cas is in his face. Hinting, cryptic warnings but Dean is having none of it. None of it at all. Cas can get off his ever loving Ancient ass and find his brother. Only Cas isn’t answering his questions. Dodging and weaving and protesting. Rules and lines and Cas can go to hell for all Dean cares. Useless son of a bitch. Dean doesn’t care how many times he’s jerked off to the memory of Cas and him in the shower. Nothing means more to him than his brother.

Then Sammy is back.

Wrapped like a Christmas gift on the Gate room floor. Dazed and confused and naked as a jay bird under his sheer gauzy wrappings.

No sign of Cas. No sign of Castiel at all.

 ***

“Why do you do that?”

“Ever loving Christ, can’t you knock!” Yelling at Cas who’s suddenly on the bed beside Dean, who’s well...

Cas dropped his gaze to Dean’s hand, the one that was wrapped around his...Was still lazing moving up and down his...Cas tongue darted out to lick his chapped lower lip and Dean decided right then and there that fuck it, if Cas was going to drop in unannounced after four freaking months then Dean was just going to keep on going. Cas gaze jerked back up to Dean’s face, pupils dilating, eyes going wide. Lower lip sucked between his teeth now and God, Fuck, Dean’s hips snapped upwards. Thrusting and he was so close anyway so why not? Blue eyes locking to hazel, tongue stroking out over chapped lower lip and Jesus. Fucking. Christ. Dean groaning as it rolled over him, through him, pulling him under. Better than a wet dream. Grinning stupidly. Panting.

“Where the hell have you been?” Slightly breathless but demanding.

“I was punished.”

A sudden stop.

“For Sam?” Guilt. Part shame. “For helping Sam?”

Head turning, eyes glancing away.

“Yes.”

“Well that’s fucked up.” Dean announced.

“Those are the rules. I tried to explain them to you.” Quiet, sad sound.

“And I didn’t listen cause I don’t care. And I still don’t care cause it’s wrong.” Dean was still so certain of that. Not that he didn’t appreciated what Cas did. God did he ever, but he was still right and they were wrong.

“There isn’t much time left.”Cas announced softly.

“Are you getting in trouble for this? What you’re telling me right now?” Dean wanted to know. Cause it would make sense, the long months he was gone. And if helping Sam or saving him was wrong then why was this alright? What kind of fucked up sense of morality did these things have anyway?

His head dropped. A sad kind of agreement.

“There will be a battle. All will be lost if you lose.”

“Well that wasn’t cryptic.” Was Dean’s only remark.

“Dean I cannot...”

“I get it. Really. I do. I’m a little slow on the uptake but...”

Silence. Dean watching his shoulders slump slightly.

“Better than nothing.” It was as close to thanking him as Dean got.

 ***

In the middle of a field of dying and it was obvious they were losing. Pretty obvious why Cas had dropped by last night. Also pretty obvious they couldn’t lose this one. If they lost this one, if this planet fell, then it was dominos baby. Pivotal fucking moment.

So he’s trying to remember what Cas always babbles on about? Trying to figure out what he’s doing wrong, if he’s even doing anything wrong. Protection? His destiny was to protect. Protect humanity? There weren’t any civilians left! Only the SG teams and rebel Jaffa in gliders, dive bombing. The sounds of explosions all around them. Staff blasts. Gun fire. Guys on the ground dying. So many dying but they couldn’t lose, they had to win, if they lost the battle then...but Cas didn’t say that, did he? All will be lost if they lose...Lose humanity, harder work not to be taken lightly. Always impatient when Dean took his comments lightly. Dean hoped he was fucking right about this.

“Dial the gate. We need to retreat.”

“But our orders were...”

“I know our orders.” Only a second to hesitate, he had to be sure about this. No one senior left to counter command. If he was wrong. Fuck. Make the decision! “Dial the fucking gate.”

Lose the planet, but save humanity. He was going to kick Castiel’s ass.

 ***

Cas wasn’t waiting on the other side of the Gate when they pulled the last of the wounded through. Dean was the last through the gate, holding off the rebel Jaffa. He wasn’t there when he was formally reprimanded for disobeying a direct order. He also missed the sad sigh General Singer gave, the look he gave Dean acknowledging he’d probably done the right thing anyway.

He wasn’t even there when Dean got home. But he was there the moment Dean stripped down and stepped into the shower though.

“You did a great thing today Dean.”

“Glad somebody thinks so.” Dean was tired, he didn’t even care if Cas was leaning in way too close and was dragging his lower lip across his jaw line, soft lips ghosting over his before the whole thing turned into a kiss. Trench coat caressing his chest, wet pants rubbing against his crotch. Okay maybe he did care. And it was nice. Nice and warm and hands sliding everywhere. Nice until it wasn’t. Hard zipper scraping delicate skin. “Why are you always over dressed?”

Cas looked down at himself in confusion.

“Why don’t I just...” Dean smiling as his hand trailed over the offending zipper, rubbing against the hard line of the seam.

Cas moaned.

“Like that ha? You should see mft...” Full lips cutting off his words as Cas’s own hands started work on the belt and zipper. Dean’s hands worked on the trench coat and the jacket and the tie and the... “You are seriously over dressed.” Mumbling between kisses, lips sliding against each other. Finally, slowly unbuttoning the shirt which was plastered to his chest.

Cas breath catching on a moan.

“Ever done this before?”

“No.” Blue eyes frighteningly wide and staring at Dean.

“Ever been naked before?” Dean laughed.

“No.” Swallowing hard.

“No?” Hands stopping. “You’ve never taken these clothes off before, you just...”

“Please stop talking. I like your hands more.”

Dean laughed and ran his thumbs over both nipples at once. No response.

“Ha. Most people like...”

Cas legs almost buckled as Dean’s hands reached his stomach.

“Sensitive?” Smirking.

“Yes.” His voice was losing its monotone.

“Why don’t we try this in the bedroom? Less chance of you falling over and breaking something.” Dean stepped back, Cas stepped forward, skin slid along skin and Dean was breathing along Cas lips again. Blue eyes suddenly too close to focus on. “Maybe in a minute.” Eyes dipping closed as he pressed a kiss to Cas mouth. Cas tongue slid along his bottom lip. Soft groan. “Or two.”

 ***

Epilogue:

“So now that I’ve fulfilled not only you, but my oh so very important destiny, does this mean you’ll be flying off into the sunset?” Dean wanted to know.

Castiel looked at him in confusion.

“Oh no Dean. You’ve only just begun.”


End file.
